


Dragon Age 100 Challenge - Masks

by Dynamitecoco_puff



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Confidence, Gen, One Word Prompt Meme, Prompt Fic, Self Confidence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 02:47:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3674586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dynamitecoco_puff/pseuds/Dynamitecoco_puff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of a prompt created by tumblr user: mxcatterbug </p><p>Vivienne teaches Nåmia a lesson on body language for an upcoming banquet with Empress Celene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragon Age 100 Challenge - Masks

'We all wear masks my dear, not just the people in Orlais. The Orlesians codify this truth, make it real. They believe that by covering their faces, they can be their truest selves unmasked' - Madame de Fer

 

Mask.

 

Nåmia sat still, with her back straight, shoulders back and relaxed, neck held high, and her legs parallel. Through the holes of her mask, her eyes were focused on a point on the floor, her pursed her lips together in extreme concentration; this position was rather…uncomfortable. 

“Breathe, my dear,” Vivienne said, sitting in the same position with ease. 

Nåmia exhaled sharply and slumped all together. She sat in that position for what seemed like an eternity.

“You only sat for 5 minutes,” Vivienne stood, her voice filled with authority. 

Nåmia, Vivienne, Cassandra, Cullen, and Dorian were to meet with Empress Celene and her lover, Briala for a banquet. After the fiasco at the Winter Palace several months before, Nåmia grew tired of strict posture, intricate masks, and overzealous politics dubbed, The Game. She was happy to be back in the comfort of Skyhold, where she can fight with sharp daggers and not sharp words.

Vivienne took it upon herself to train Nåmia in both the art of The Game. Unbeknownst to Nåmia, posture played a crucial part. Masks hide emotions of the face, posture hides emotion of the body. This was the first lesson. 

Nåmia wasn’t aware of her imperfect posture until her back ached. She pressed one of her knuckles in the small of her back, and massaged it in small circles.

“I will heal that later, darling. For now your pain will act as a reminder,” she snapped her fan shut.

Vivienne re-enacted the pose. The way she turned her slender neck, her legs positioned with utmost femininity, a fan lay closed and held gently between her fingers, and her feet pointed towards Nåmia. She dripped elegance. She _was_ elegance. 

Nåmia’s mouth hung slightly agape. 

“Now, what do you feel when you look at me?”

Nåmia felt the warmth creep up her face. She studied Vivienne’s posture, “I-ah...excited? Yes, I feel excited. A little nervous as well. Like you’re interested in me...you’re flirting with me aren't you?”

Vivienne nodded her head in approval, “Correct. How about now?” She let her fan drop to the ground and slightly spread her legs. She pressed her back against the chair and sat both of her arms on each arm of the chair. Her eyes burned through the mask and bore into Nåmia’s.

“Authoritive. Demanding. Honestly Vivienne you’re like a Queen,” Nåmia smiled. 

The Inquisitor’s roomed filled with Vivienne’s light laughter, “Now is not the time for flattery my dear, but thank you. That one was easy, here’s the next one.” She picked up her fan and flawlessly shifted her position.

Nåmia tilted her head to the side, and cocked an eyebrow. She opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it.

She crossed one of her legs over the other at the knee. She leaned towards one of her arms that rested on the handle. She brought her forearm up to rest her head upon it, fingers under her chin. Her other arm remained on the other side. She nodded, had a smile in her eye, and acted as though she were in conversation. 

She made fluid transitions to other poses and postures that Nåmia closed her eyes in confusion.

“You close your eyes for that long, you’ll die. We may have the Empress on our side, but we all have clever enemies who may infiltrate the banquet, you know that.” 

Nåmia’s eyes snapped open, “Honestly Vivienne, I don’t know this one..” She rubbed her temples.

“Pity,” Vivienne relaxed from her pose, “and you call yourself an assassin?”

It always hurt to receive Vivienne’s harsh words of disappointment. The tone of her voice made Nåmia ache. But, she was right. Nåmia was better than this. 

“You’re right Madame, I will get the hang of this. As the Inquisitor, I promise you that.” 

Vivienne nodded. She looked at Nåmia in her Orlesian mask and gown. They agreed on a dress with short sleeves, with a rising collar at the back of the neckline that sits low across her chest. The skirt billowed to the ground. Nåmia hated that it stilted her movement, but she could at least hide her daggers with the garters.

A small smile spread across her lips. Originally, Vivienne felt insulted with the audacity of the Inquisition, arriving at the Winter Palace in that frightful Soldier Uniform. This time, they will grace Orlais with fashionable and approved style. 

“What is the meaning behind your mask, dear?” She asked.

Nåmia untied the ribbon from behind her head and turned the mask around to face her. It was a beautiful shade of Moss Green, to match the main color of her gown. Bits of gold specks made the mask shimmer every time Nåmia moved her face, and a piece of Everite held by a small ribbon, hung at the bridge of her nose. Dark green lines swirled throughout the mask in a way that if closely inspected, created both the symbol of the Inquisition and the mark of Mythal; a homage to Nåmia’s background. The mask had a gold trim bordering the outline, and she loved the fact that the far left side of the mask was designed with a small curve up her face, resting on her hairline. 

“It means that the Inquisition is an equal. That we are also masters of The Game. The Inquisition rules alongside Empress Celene and we are a powerhouse itself.”

“What does it mean _to you_? Who are you without the mask?” 

“It...it means that I represent the Inquisition. That I am the Herald of Andraste, even as an Elf. That even when I may climb to ranks that I have never imagined possible, I will never forget where I come from.” 

She stopped looking at her mask, and rose her gaze to Vivienne.

“Without the mask, I am a Dalish Huntress, the best among the Lavellan Clan. A trained assassin who strikes from the shadows. I am the Inquisitor, with the power of The Mark on my hand,” Nåmia stood, her Mark ablaze like the ferocious confidence she bled, “I, along with my friends and allies in this Inquisition will defeat Corypheus and this chaos once and for all. The mask is just that, a mask. Without it, I am my true self…” She smiled at Vivienne.

“...I am me.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Vivienne Approves.*


End file.
